Wallets
by midwintersilver
Summary: There's been a mix-up. But what's Mac's is Harm's, and what's Harm's is Mac's...right?


**Author's note:**

They're not mine.

A little fuzzy on the timeline again with this one. For my sakes, Sydney has happened, Paraguay has happened, and Harm has broken up with Renée.

* * *

Maybe, Mac thought with no little frustration, it wasn't so strange that their purses looked a lot alike. They both had black bifolds in streamlined leather; convenient to keep in pockets and with plenty of space to store everything you needed. His was a little more masculine, perhaps – the top zipper was chunky and silver, as if to proclaim that this man had _bite._ Hers instead sported a minimalist, almost inset zip – still practical, but prettier. Other than that, though, you'd have a hard time telling them apart. Which was exactly her problem.

They'd been sharing dinner at his apartment – one of a string of friendly affairs recently as they worked on a new case – and their purses were both on the table. When she went to leave she'd picked up his instead of her own, and now she was fighting the curious urge to open it and see what he kept inside.

It wasn't in her job description to pry into her partner's business, but she couldn't help a little professional curiosity – that never hurt anyone, right? Really, she knew the answer to that question was "wrong," but she'd prefer not to think about that right now. Her hand twitched on the gearstick, centimetres away from reversing back out of the driveway to return his purse – and also centimetres from said purse, which she was itching to open. Eventually, weak as she was, she gave in.

She folded the purse over and looked inside, passing her eyes over his cards. Nothing unusual – JAG ID, driver's license – God, she'd have to give this back soon (and he had hers. She'd been driving illegally all the way home. Oops.) A loyalty card for his favourite vegetarian restaurant, and for an unknown clothing shop (hmmnn, she wouldn't have picked that! Of course, he was the saving sort, but she didn't think he was that practical… or patient. It took ages to redeem anything decent on those sorts of programs unless you were a really big spender.)

She wasn't really interested in how much money he had in here, though she'd noticed his purse was a little lighter than hers so he obviously kept fewer coins. She flicked the fold she'd turned under back up, and immediately noticed a photo poking out of one of the card slots.

Curiousity piqued, she wiggled it out gently, careful not to tear the edges. It was most likely a picture of Renée, she thought, and immediately pushed the idea to the corner of her mind. She ignored the feeling that bubbled up inside her– if she didn't know better (and she told herself she did, it was the only way to live) she would have called it jealousy. Maybe it would be Harriet and Bud with baby AJ. Yes, that would be nice. The doting godfather might have a picture of his sweet, ebullient godson in his purse. The logical part of her brain told her she really had no right to decide who Harm could and couldn't have a photo of, but like many times before, she paid it no attention.

She realised she was looking dreamily out of the windshield and brought her attention back to the photo.

She was genuinely surprised when she saw it, and blinked a few times to make sure. It was her, a bright smile on her face as she looked down at a baby in her arms. AJ. Maybe that was why he had it, her brain rationalised – because it had his godson in. But another side of her, probably the one that was still five years old and dreaming of rescue from a handsome prince, said that there were plenty of other, more recent photos of AJ which didn't involve her. Maybe a caption would explain things. She turned the photo over gently, not trusting herself to avoid putting fingerprints on the dog-eared photo paper, and read:

 _My marine and AJ._

 _It could have been our eternity_

 _if I was semper-fi enough._

Damn Harm and his puzzles, she thought. She couldn't ignore the warm fuzzy feeling emanating from somewhere inside her, born with the words "my marine" and strengthened by his use of "eternity." It had become something of a swear word for her after Sydney, and to this day whenever she saw it in those "inspirational quotes" on the internet she wanted to puke.

She'd always wished she could tell the teenage girls who generated such propaganda that life couldn't be a perfect fairytale. Eternity could be a god-awfully long time to spend _without_ the one you loved as well as _with_ them. (Or even with them, but not in the way you want to be, the fluffy-emotional part of her brain added softly. _Particularly_ if you messed it up.)

And yet… it certainly sounded like he wanted something more with her. She wanted eternity in lights – had said as much in Sydney – but she'd also pushed him over the edge. She'd known him long enough to understand that he didn't like to be forced, but she'd come to the desperate conclusion that she _needed_ someone to love her back and if it couldn't be him, she'd look elsewhere. She'd thought several times since that she was wrong. Ultimately, she hoped she wouldn't have married Br…Mic (It was awful that she'd almost adopted the habit of calling him by his surname. She had been engaged to the man, for God's sake!) even if Harm hadn't had his accident. She hoped she would've been strong enough to realise what she wanted.

And then there had been Paraguay. What was she doing, saying _never?_ Not saying thankyou? Telling him he'd just given up _everything he had?_ Of course he'd had her. He still did. And she was so illimitably grateful for everything he'd done that she'd abused a concussed hero who'd come to save her? Of course she was angry and frustrated with the constant one-upmanship between him and Clay. For a while afterwards she'd convinced herself that anger justified her actions, that Paraguay was all his fault.

But hindsight told a different story, one she wasn't at all comfortable with. She'd come to the conclusion he'd be over her after that, that she'd somehow unwittingly told the truth when she said it would never work out between them. But maybe things weren't as cut-and-dried as she thought?

She knew what she wanted now, but she hadn't thought Harm had returned her feelings. Did he still want eternity? Was he semper-fi enough?

Across town, Harm was simultaneously happy and disappointed – buoyed by the friendly dinner (Mac's presence always did that to him) but hitting himself over what could have been. He had admitted to himself that he was very much in love with her, but that didn't help when she was over him, now did it? His mess in Sydney and the one he considered more hers in Paraguay had brought unclimbable fences up between them, and he was afraid of trying to jump over for fear of falling back, heart broken, on the same side. He got up to make himself a cup of tea, resolving not to think about it any longer, and realised that something on the table wasn't his.

Their purses really were very alike, he mused as he held Mac's slightly more feminine black bifold up to the light. There was something implacably Mac about this, something about the compact 'invisible' silver zip and the thin, smooth leather that reminded him of the complex package of strength and vulnerability that was his marine (he'd tried reminding himself not to think of her as his, but it was no good.)

He should probably return it. Did she know she had his? She would have reached home about 20 minutes ago, so maybe she was on her way back by now. In the meantime – he couldn't fight the urge to see the contents, to have an unadulterated snapshot of a life he wasn't usually privy to in its entirety. After a few moments' thought, he gave in and opened it up…and the first thing he saw was himself.

Mac had a mirror in her purse. _Should've expected that,_ he thought wryly, and decided their wallets were more different than he'd first thought. He scanned through the cards on the right, finding loyalty vouchers (six stamps and your next order free!) for Beltway Burgers, Wendy's and a cupcake shop he'd never heard of (trust her.) That was on top of several clothing stores. He was sobered somewhat by the AA callcard, reminded that her tough Marine exterior hid a lot of hurt, and smiled at her awful driver's licence picture. That would be the only one she'd ever looked less than perfect in, he thought. He'd always marvelled at how photogenic she was, despite her undeniably gorgeous features. He'd met a lot of beautiful people who couldn't handle cameras like Mac.

What he saw next was himself…again….and he got a rather extreme sense of déjà vu. Mac had a picture of him in her wallet? He'd thought she was well over him, despite the friendship they'd been warily reapproaching, baseball bats above their heads, in the past few months. She'd said _never_ in Paraguay. He'd asked her to wait forever in Sydney. He'd come to the conclusion that this strange and complicated more-than-friends-but-not-quite-lovers dynamic would have to be enough for them, because they weren't getting anything more. And then he saw the picture.

He was standing easily in dress whites and gold wings – he couldn't suppress a little arrogance at the thought of her comment years ago - and had little AJ attached like a limpet to his leg. He was smiling, too – it couldn't have been her who took the photo because he unconsciously reserved that smile for her, and so she must have been walking in. But maybe she only had this photo because it was a cute one of AJ? She was a great godmother, and he imagined she'd be a brilliant mother too...attentive, caring, thoughtful…

He turned the picture over, looking for a caption, and wasn't disappointed.

 _My flyboy and AJ._

 _I wish I'd been able to tell you you were more_

 _than the right kind of man._

 _You were always the right man._

So what were Mac's feelings again? He wanted to say something along the lines of "women are so confusing," but forbade himself because he didn't think of Mac as a _woman_. She was so much more than that, so much more to him than anyone he'd ever known before. The dynamic between them was even more undefinable with that last comment. It certainly sounded like she wanted a deeper relationship with him. The fact that she saw him as the right man, as the man who deserved her, gave him a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't felt for a long time. But if he was right, why did she say never? She was the only one who'd ever "got" who he was completely. She would never forbid him from flying, though she worried ceaselessly ever time he did his quals. She wouldn't try to stop him doing things that were important to him, but she'd _always_ be by his side with a dispassionate plan. Why did she say it would never work out if she didn't mean it? It occurred to him that he was placing way too much emphasis on one word and its varied associations. Okay, if she wanted him to fight, then fight he would. _I wish I'd been able to tell you you were more than the right kind of man._ He needed to prove he was the right man.

Mac arrived outside Harm's apartment, rested her head on the steering wheel for a second to steel herself for the coming interaction, and got out. As she did she saw Harm's reversing SUV come to a halt, as if he had been going to see her and no longer needed to now she had arrived. At least, she hoped that was the reason. He got out, looking confused, and for a moment she allowed herself to appreciate how cute he was with that furrow in his brow. Then she decided she was getting down to business.

"Harm, were you coming to return my wallet? I've got yours." She held it out.

"As a matter of fact, I was." He returned the glittering smile she offered, but a shimmer of confusion remained on his features. She thought for a moment, maybe… but he wouldn't have.

"Can I come up?" She motioned with her head up the stairs. "I'd like to chat to you about something." That was alright, Marine, she coached herself. Keep going. Grab the bull by the horns.

"Of course," he nodded. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something too."

Interesting, she thought. I wasn't expecting that.

They walked up the stairs together, and Harm held himself back from putting a hand at the small of her back with some difficulty. If she was here on unrelated matters, he'd rather blow it once they were in his apartment and not before. He had to admit he was absolutely terrified.

Harm opened the door and motioned her in. God, she was gorgeous. Everything she did was just beautiful. He was still terrified.

Mac sat down on the sofa, Harm on the other side, and refused his offer of tea.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

"You asked first, only fair that you speak first," he replied. He was hedging, she thought.

"Okay. Well, you're going to hate me, but I'd like to talk about us."

He was visibly shocked. "Can I ask what brought this on?"

"You probably wouldn't like it if I told you the reason."

"Is it anything to do with my wallet?"

She gave him a strange look. "Yes. Is yours anything to do with mine?"

"It is. This feels like 20 questions."

"Okay, what is it?" They asked at the same time. The tension broke and they laughed, careful at first and then gradually more raucous. It felt like old times. In silent agreement, they reached into each other's wallets, which were sitting on the table together like they had earlier that night, and took out the photos. Both looked surprised, and they laughed again nervously.

"I thought you were over me." Harm spoke first, his voice unusually small. "I hurt you in Sydney, told you none of what I felt, what you needed to hear…and then you said never in Paraguay."

"I hurt you too. I pushed you, and when you couldn't say what I wanted I ran into another man's arms. Some perverse part of me thought it might make you state your intentions, but I should have known you were too much of a gentleman. And then in Paraguay… I never even said thankyou."

"I was jealous and stupid."

"I was flippant, and I lied. I never…" she put her hand out and traced his cheek… "I never meant it when I said we couldn't be together. All I ever wanted was to be with you. I just got more and more frustrated because I didn't think you wanted that too."

"I should have fought for you. I knew you needed to hear the words, and it was long past time I said them. I've always been good in the thick of things, but awful out of them." She almost didn't hear the comment he made under his breath. "I should probably have told you that I broke up with Renée."

"When?" She whispered hopefully.

"It's been about a month."

"Oh my _god,_ Harm."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm – I'm not semper-fi enough."

She smiled. "Yes you are. You are if I am. Am I the right girl?"

"You're the right girl, my girl. My Marine."

He wiped away the tears under her eye with the pad of his thumb, a familiar and reassuring gesture. She gave a wet smile, and he returned his own.

"I don't think I've seen you cry, except for Bud…" she had an odd sense of wonder that this was important enough for him to be crying now. She reached up, traced his face, cleaned the tears from beneath his eyes with her finger. He ran his fingers through her hair and she butted her forehead into the palm of his hand.

"I love you, Mac." What had she done to him, that he sounded this scared?

"I love you too," she answered, "and we've never even been on a real date."

"Oh, so will you object if I do this then?" He leaned in and touched his lips to hers in a champagne-and-fireworks perfect first kiss.

"Never," she paused for a moment, then pulled him in, deepening it. "You're my eternity."

He started crying again and she kissed the tears away as they fell.

"I…love…everything…you…are."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her head in beneath his chin. "You are beautiful and perfect and I never want to let go of you again."

"We have a lot to talk about," she started, but he put a finger to her lips and asked hopefully "tomorrow?"

She demurred, and kissed softly across his collarbone. "I'm so sorry for everything."

"I'm sorrier."

"I'm sorriest. You've made me realise that I don't need to be on top with everyone. I want to be beside you, forever."

"And your strength, my Marine, is one of my favourite things about you. I love Mac," he kissed her forehead, "and I love Sarah," he kissed each of her cheeks, "and I love the beautiful puzzle that they are together…that you are." He kissed her quickly and she breathed just long enough to say "eternity?"

He smiled against her lips. "Eternity."


End file.
